


Thought That Counts

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [15]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Gen, Illnesses, Influenza, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a bout of the ‘flu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> written for the following prompt left on tumblr’s otpprompts - [Imagine person A of your OTP/OT3 is very sick. Person B (and C if it’s an OT3) work very hard to make breakfast in bed for person A- but they do a really bad job. Person A eats it anyways because they don’t have the heart to tell Person B (and C for OT3) that it tastes awful.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/100397983406/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-ot3-is-very-sick)

The sound of wind and rain battering against the bedroom window greeted Richard as he cracked still sleepy eyes open; he yawned wearily, before he turned over in bed. He winced at the light that filtered in through a slight crack in the curtains; his eyes, still sensitive from the flu, found even such dim light painful. Richard shivered, more from his sickness than through finding it cold in the room; each shiver seemed to shudder through his body down to the bone. His nose still felt blocked, whilst a heavy weight lay against his chest from his illness. He settled deeper beneath the bedcovers, checked to see whether he still had a filled box of tissues nearby and sighed croakily in relief when he found that he had. It was as though the mere sight of the tissues prompted a sneeze, for he did so, explosively, barely lifting a newly snatched tissue from the box to his nose in time.

That one sneeze erupted into barking coughs, that did little to soothe his already achingly dry throat. He waited until the coughing fit had passed, before he settled back against his pillow again; despite the shivers that racked his body, his face and skin felt hot and drenched with sweat. He shivered again and cracked his eyes open a little more when he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening softly. He craned his neck, and tried to see who it was; he heard the soft shuffle of socked feet coming nearer, before the concerned face of Paul leant into view. Paul’s hand was blessedly cool against his forehead; Richard sighed, and relaxed beneath the pressure of it.

“Your temperature‘s still high,” Paul said, as he, too, checked that Richard had enough tissues. “Your nose is red raw, you know.”

“Not surprised,” Richard said, and attempted a smile when his voice came out raw and hoarse. “Still don’t feel well.”

“So I can see,” Paul said, before he settled upon the edge of the bed, mattress dipping beneath his added weight.

Richard rolled a little against him, and smiled when he felt the trapping weight of Paul’s hand against his chest. Paul still looked concerned, eyes dark with his worry; Richard hadn’t expected the other man to have made such a fuss over him, yet despite his continuing surprise, he felt grateful that Paul was even prepared to do so. 

“Don’t have to stay with me, Paul,” Richard said, bravely. “Might get sick too.”

“Who cares?” Paul snorted, with a dismissive shrug “That’ll give me the excuse to stay in bed with you.”

Richard smiled, but said nothing; he didn’t know quite what to say, anyway, even if his aching throat hadn’t prevented him from speaking. 

“Do you want a drink?” Paul asked, as he checked Richard’s empty glass by the side of the bed.

Richard nodded, but Paul still was distracted by the glass; he nodded again when Paul turned to look at him. Paul made a noise of agreement, before he spoke again.

“How about something to eat? You haven’t eaten since last night. You won’t get better if you don’t keep your strength up, you know,” he said.

“Please,” Richard said, despite the fact that he didn’t really fancy eating a thing.

He still could see the sense in Paul’s words despite this; he didn’t want to waste away to nothing. Paul grunted again, eyes scanning Richard’s face for a few moments. Richard blinked, and felt blissful silence in the darkness behind scratchy eyelids. He heard Paul’s sigh, and felt the faint brush of the other man’s lips against his forehead, before the bed moved beneath the transference of Paul’s weight again.

“Be back in a few,” Paul said, softly, before Richard heard his feet shuffling away again. 

He didn’t answer; he didn’t think Paul really excepted a response anyway. He heard the door snick shut quietly behind the other man, before the room fell silent again. Strangely, Richard felt lonely without Paul’s presence there, despite the fact that the other man was only a couple of rooms away. He turned onto his side, cracked his eyes open again and watched as the light shifted and played against the far wall, as the rain that slid down the windowpane threw patterns against the dark wallpaper. 

Slowly, Richard’s eyes drifted closed, body relaxing as his senses were soothed and lulled further into sleep by the sounds of the rain. He sighed and settled a little further into his sweaty pillow and was almost fully asleep by the time that Paul returned; the other man’s socked feet once again made soft shushing sounds upon the carpet as he shuffled in. Richard cracked his eyes open a little grumpily and saw that Paul carried a heavily laden tray; Paul had thoughtfully made breakfast for two.

Richard struggled into a sitting position whilst Paul settled the tray upon the bedside cabinet; he allowed the other man to fuss over him again, to pull the pillow out from beneath him, before Paul plumped it vigorously and pushed it behind Richard’s back.

“Don’t have to do this,” Richard said, even though he made no physical protest against the fuss. 

“Stop complaining. It’s not every day I’m gonna do this for you,” Paul said, as he dropped another kiss against Richard’s burning forehead. “Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

Richard grunted and the noise came out sounding somewhat clogged. He plucked the glass of orange juice from the tray beside him before Paul could offer it to him, and sipped at it, enjoying the feel of the soothingly cool liquid against his throat. He startled a little when Paul placed the tray of food upon his lap, before the other man slid beneath the covers with him; it was only then that Richard realized the other man still was in his pyjamas. 

Paul plucked a slice of heavily buttered toast from the tray and started to eat, teeth crunching into the buttery treat with obvious enjoyment. Richard watched him for a while, whilst still taking small sips from his glass.

“Eat, you bastard,” Paul said, as he nudged Richard’s free hand closer to the food. “I didn’t make it just so that you can stare at it.” 

Richard grunted again and plucked one of the pieces of toast from the tray.

“Why toast?” he asked, a little grumpily. “I want something soft.” 

“That’s why I cooked you eggs as well, idiot,” Paul laughed. “Toast is good for sore throats, or so I’ve heard, and the eggs are packed with protein. Just what you need. Plus I figured you might fancy something sweet, so I gave you a cupcake as well. I baked them last night, while you were asleep.”

Richard nodded out his thanks and bit into the toast; he tried to turn his sudden grimace into a smile for Paul’s benefit. Beneath the thick and tempting layer of butter lay a piece of extremely burnt toast, black and too crisp against Richard’s teeth. He swallowed his current mouthful and cast a glance towards Paul’s toast; it too was blackened and burnt, yet the other man seemed content to eat it with his customary gusto. Richard frowned, shrugged and struggled on.

“Eat your eggs,” Paul said, as he pointed to Richard’s plate eagerly.

Richard nodded and scooped some of the scrambled eggs onto his toast; he hoped that the eggs would make the toast taste better. He grimaced when the first mouthful proved his hope to be a false one; the eggs were greasy and tasted a little of the sausages that Paul had fried the evening before. They also were slimy and cold. Still he said nothing; while the food was disgusting, he knew that Paul had meant well and had obviously tried his best for Richard’s benefit, providing him with food to help him get better again.

Paul helped himself to a heaping pile of the eggs and consumed them quickly; the eggs seemed there and gone in an instant to Richard’s eyes, hoovered up by a seemingly ravenous Paul. He struggled on with his eggs on toast and managed another slice of toast once the first slice had been consumed; his second slice was topped with bacon that was slightly too crisp and over-cooked for his palate. Richard still remained stoically silent, grimaces turning into grins whenever Paul turned a hopeful gaze upon him. Finally, his ordeal was over and he could safely stow the tray on the bedside cabinet.

“Don’t forget your cupcake,” Paul said, sounding almost hurt.

Richard sighed; if it was anything like the rest of the meal, the cake would prove just as unpalatable.

“Are you not having one?” he asked, and hoped his question would delay the inevitable for a little while longer. 

“Of course,” Paul said, as though his consumption of cake was really in doubt. “The pink one’s for you.”

“Of course,” Richard sighed, without a fight.

Paul merely gave him a grin and patiently waited for Richard’s verdict when the other man hesitantly bit into the cake. Surprisingly, the cupcake, whilst a little on the dry side, had turned out a little better than the rest of the meal had. Richard put it down to a mere fluke on Paul’s part, yet still he was glad that he didn’t have to feign his enjoyment for the other man’s benefit where the cake was concerned. Despite this, however, he still was glad when the cake was finished and he was able to lay his plate aside once more. 

Paul bustled the dirty plates away and Richard could hear him stacking them in the dishwasher. There was further movement about the kitchen, before the other man returned, with freshly brewed coffee for them both and another glass of orange juice for Richard. Richard sipped at the juice gratefully, a little disappointed that he couldn‘t smell the coffee because of his bunged up nose. 

Despite his vague disappointment, Richard still smiled when Paul slid beneath the covers again, and the other man wrapped one arm around Richard's shoulders. Richard settled against Paul, and rested his aching head upon the other man’s shoulder. He felt the faint brush of Paul’s lips against his forehead, as the other man left tickling kisses against his heated skin. 

They remained wordless and companionable until the coffee had been consumed and Richard had settled down in bed again, wrapped in his blankets once more. Paul slid his arm about the other man’s waist and smiled when Richard cuddled into him, shivering despite the heat that emanated from the other man’s body. 

“Thanks for breakfast,” Richard murmured, against Paul’s chest. “I know you usually don’t like doing things like that.”

“Only because I can’t cook,” Paul huffed. 

Richard made a purposefully muffled noise against Paul’s chest; Paul rubbed at Richard’s shoulder absently.

“I have to admit that the toast was over-cooked, though,” Paul murmured, amusement warming his tone. “And the eggs tasted like shit.” 

“You arse-hole. You should have said something. I thought you were enjoying it,” Richard sighed against Paul’s chest.

“And I thought you were,” Paul countered, with a laugh. “Still, it made you feel better didn’t it?”

“I guess,” Richard conceded, a little guiltily. “The thought that counts, I suppose.” 

Paul hummed, but otherwise remained silent; instead, he cuddled a little further into Richard, and held him close until the shivers subsided a little. Richard had to smile at the other man; even though Paul’s culinary efforts were woeful, the man had tried his best and Richard knew that it was the thought that counted. 

He dared to press a dry kiss against Paul’s mouth, before he said - “Thanks, Paulchen. I know you tried your best.” 

Paul nodded and smiled but didn’t say anything. Instead, they remained wordless and companionable in each other's arms, listening to the rain and the wind battering against the window. Paul felt Richard slowly relax into his arms, as the other man fell asleep, hand clutching at the back of Paul’s shirt as though seeking comfort even in sleep. Paul smiled and closed his eyes; unlike Richard, however, sleep was a long time coming for him, but come it did, in the end.


End file.
